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Letting loose his fantasies could have disastrous results. Because he had a lot of fantasies.
“It could get worse than a spanking and a butt plug that vibrates and ripples?” She stared up at him in amused disbelief, even as her hands pulled his shirt free of his jeans.
She was wild, wanton. Dawg could see it in her eyes now, and he wondered if he hadn’t somehow sensed that wildness inside her years before.
He held back, feeling her slender fingers pulling at the buttons of his shirt, releasing them one by one as she stared up at him with a challenge in her eyes.
He wondered how far she would go. How wild she would let herself get before she pulled back.
And maybe a part of him had to know. He had no desire to share her, but that didn’t mean his sexuality had dimmed in any way. He liked his sex lengthy, hard, and nasty. Crista couldn’t have a clue exactly how hard and nasty he could get with her. But he could show her. He could show her, and try like hell not to scare her off while he was doing so.
Because scaring her was definitely something he didn’t want to do. But he wanted her. All of her, in ways that had his cock pounding in agony at the thought of it.
“I could definitely make it compete with the butt plug,” he assured her with a smile as her fingers smoothed the shirt back from his shoulders.
Dawg shrugged the material away, feeling the summer breeze as it whispered through the trees and caressed his naked flesh. It was nowhere as sensual as the feel of Crista’s fingers working at his belt, drawing the leather free of the buckle before pulling at the metal button that held the band secure.
“You steal a girl’s breath with your wicked ways, Mr. Mackay,” she drawled teasingly, that hint of Southern belle deliberately thickened as his zipper rasped lower.
Dawg felt helpless above her. He stared into her chocolate eyes, certain he should be doing something himself. Kissing her soft lips, drawing her clothes from her body, but it was all he could do instead to maintain the strength in his arms to hold himself above her.
His jeans were loose now; her silken hands gripped the waistband and began drawing it from his body.
“That’s only going to go so far,” he warned her with a grimace. “We still have to get rid of the boots, sweetheart. ”
She smiled, a reckless, heated smile that had his balls drawing tight in anticipation.
“Lie down,” she ordered softly, her palms pressing into his abdomen. “Lie down, Dawg, and we’ll see if we can’t get rid of them. ”
He lay down.
Giving a woman control had never been his strong suit, but he gave it to Crista. Because watching her, feeling her touch, was like being warmed in the winter. It wrapped around him and eased him into the sensuality rather than allowing him to throw his partner into it.
She cast him a heated look from beneath her lashes as she moved to his feet and removed his boots, then his socks. Then, like the wanton he dreamed of, she gripped the waistband of his jeans and began to drag them and his briefs down his legs.
It was agonizing, watching her undress him, seeing the pleasure in her eyes and knowing how hot it made her. As she tossed his jeans to the bottom of the red checked cloth he was lying on, his brow arched.
“You’re still dressed, Crista. ”
She looked around as though gauging the privacy of where they were. As he started to speak, her hands gripped the hem of the little shirt she wore, and she drew it over her head.
She wore nothing but a thin lace bra beneath it. One that framed her perky breasts and almost revealed her tight, hard nipples.
Watching him with slumberous, sexy eyes, she rose slowly to her feet and dropped the cotton capris as she pushed her sandals off her feet.
“Leave the panties on. ” His voice was harsh as her fingers hooked into the little elastic band of the thong she wore.
Her lips tilted again. Knowing, sexual.
“What about the bra?”
“Lord have mercy. ” He sighed. “Take it off. ”
She released the clip between her breasts slowly and let the cups fall away from the hard-tipped mounds before shrugging it from her shoulders.
And there was no mercy to be found. There was sunlight spilling through the trees overhead and washing her creamy flesh in golden rays of heat.
When she came to him, Dawg couldn’t help but suck in his breath at the complete sensuality of her flowing movements. She wasn’t embarrassed. She wasn’t playing coy. She was hungry, and she was going to feed on the sexual, sensual intensity blazing between them.
